Every Man Has A Moly
by momoli
Summary: Neville and I always had each other's back, we were always there for each other, since day one. He was supposed to ask me to that Ball, and he didn't. And that was why my friendship with Neville Longbottom ended.
1. Prologue

_"I'm going with Neville."_

And Harry Potter's face went from nervous to extremely disappointed.  
I'm sure mine looked about the same. Ginny Weasley was going to the Yule Ball with Neville Longbottom.  
Which meant Neville was not going with me.

Having been friends with Neville since first year, you'd think that I would have been the first he'd ask to accompany him to such a big, formal event. I assumed he was going to ask me. But instead, he asked a girl who was below our year, who wouldn't have been able to attend the event if he hadn't asked. Ron Weasley's little sister, who Harry Potter definitely had a crush on.  
Instead I went with Harry, looked amazing, and listened to them complain about what a terrible time they were having. I got drunk off some firewhisky Seamus Finnigan had snuck into the dance, danced with a few friends, and went to bed early and angry.

Neville didn't even ask me to dance once.  
Neville and I always had each other's back, we were always there for each other, since day one.  
He was supposed to ask me to that Ball, and he didn't.

And that was why my friendship with Neville Longbottom ended.


	2. Chapter One

I knew Neville since we were both very young; eight or nine, I'd say. We met when we were both at St. Mungo's visiting our parents. He was visiting both his parents and I was visiting my mom. My dad took me once a week, and Neville's grandmother took him.  
My parents had gone to school with his parents, ironically, and they were both in something called the Order of the Phoenix. It was a bunch of people who had banded together against the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and his Death Eaters.  
Neville's parents, according to my dad, were incredible Aurors. He always told Neville that he too would be great one day (to which Neville's grandmother would respond with a rude remark about how Neville would never be as great as his parents).  
My parents were Herbologists, hence my name: Moly (like the plant). They bred many strains of plants in attempts to assist in brewing potions that would aid in the war.  
My mother bred the wizarding world's most potent Alihotsy tree. It was so potent, in fact, that the antidote wouldn't work on her hysteria, which led to her being a permanent patient at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, in the Janus Thickey Ward, which was where Neville's parents were as well. His parents were tortured by Death Eaters shortly after he was born, so intensely by the Cruciatus Curse, that they went insane and lost practically all their memory; unfortunately, even of their own son.  
Neville and I initially met on the fifth floor of St. Mungo's, at their tea shop. I went right up to him and asked him what his name was. I never saw children around the hospital, and so I was eager to meet one.  
He stuttered nervously, eventually muttering "Neville Longbottom, Miss."  
I'll never forget that moment. I stuck out my hand, introduced myself, and from that day forward we were friends.

Up until the Yule Ball, that is. Never had I felt so betrayed in my life. I kicked that boy right out of my circle of friends, not responding to his owls, and walking straight by him any time he tried to talk to me in person.  
Luckily for me, I had been sorted into Ravenclaw our first year, so I didn't have to go out of my way to avoid him all the time. He got the picture eventually, and by the time our fifth year started, I hadn't heard word from him since months after the ball.

Everyone told me I was overreacting, of course, and maybe in their eyes I was, but when you are so close to someone that almost every childhood memory you have has them included, it's more than hurtful when they decide to ask _Ginny Weasley_ to the Yule Ball.

Ginny Weasley was every thing that every guy looked for in Hogwarts: she was naturally pretty, had a sense of humor, was athletic, and smart to boot.  
Not saying I was an ugly duckling, but I definitely had some molting to do.  
At the end of her third year, Ginny was as tall as I was when I began my fifth. Her hair was long, brilliantly red, her brown eyes bright and full of life.  
Basically, she was most of the things I wasn't.

I was slightly awkward, proportioned nicely, but very short. Not many girls my age stopped growing when they hit a measley 5 feet. My hair was a dark, moussy brown, my eyes the same.  
The only thing I had over Ginny was my book smarts. I did better in every class than she did.  
And, I had Neville.  
We were similar, in some ways, and I never had anything against the girl until Neville chose her company over mine for a school dance.

I knew it wasn't her fault Neville asked her instead of me, I really did. My head told me so.

So my heart told me to just stop talking to them both forever.


End file.
